


A Fight for Survival

by 12chii (orphan_account)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Not Beta Read, Unwind AU, dystopian setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7509805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/12chii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kageyama Tobio, a 15 year-old kendo prodigy from a prestigious sports academy. Kageyama Tobio, an up-and-coming athlete, predictions put him in the national team by high school. Kageyama Tobio, with so much of his life ahead of him, would stop living by the end of the month. The Unwind order tells him so.</p><p>An Unwind Dystology AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kageyama Tobio

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the universe of Unwind series by Neal Shusterman, with a few alterations done for integrative purposes.
> 
> Chapter notes:  
> \- Shinai is the bamboo sword most commonly used in Kendo.  
> \- Dojo is a room or hall used to practice Japanese martial arts.
> 
> I’ll try to keep the kendo terms to a minimum and use the english translations whenever possible, but these two are kind of hard to replace.

 

_The Bill of Life states that human life may not be touched from the moment of conception until a child reaches the age of thirteen._

  
_However, between the ages of thirteen and eighteen, a parent may choose to retroactively "abort" a child on the condition that the child's life doesn't “technically” end._

  
_The process by which a child is both terminated and yet kept alive is called “unwinding”._

  
_Unwinding is now a common, and accepted practice in society._

_\- from Unwind, by Neal Shusterman_

 

 *****

 

Tobio wakes up to the rays of sunrise coating his room in orange streaks. He has not set up an alarm, but the years of discipline have trained his body clock well. It’s useless now because all he wants is to go back to sleep. And probably never wake up. He must have spaced out for quite a while because the familiar sounds of cooking are replacing the silence in the house. It sinks into him that another day has begun. Another day closer to his end. Soon enough Kageyama Tobio will be no more than scattered parts preserved in various organ banks, but nothing has seemed to change for the rest of the world. His mom still wakes up every morning to prepare breakfast. In about an hour his stepfather will take a shower, and at roughly 07.30 they will sit at the dining table to eat while the television plays the morning news. Up until ten days ago Tobio would be gulping down his meal in a flash, starving after his 2-hour ritual of morning practice. It might still be another two weeks before the government takes him away, but they act as though he has never existed in the first place. Perhaps because that’s what they’ve wanted for a long time. At this point Tobio has exhausted all his anger and hurt; he can’t even feel disappointed with anyone but himself. The time isolated in his room had made him think and accept that in some part, this was his fault, too.

 

He wonders about what the course of his life would be like if he had taken a moment to step back and observe, understand and adapt better. Unconsciously, his eyes drift to the lone photograph framed upon his desk. It serves to remind him that for the first seven years of his life, he had something he could truly call a family.

 

*****

 

His dad died eight years ago, and along with him a part of his mom. The part that read Tobio bedtime stories and kissed his cheek goodnight. The part that packed his lunchbox everyday and told him to always do his best. The part that would so often fill her eyes with open adoration when she looked at her son. Tobio, then barely seven years old, didn’t understand what was happening. All he knew was that his dad wouldn’t come back and his mom was going away. She would be right in front of him, but she was somewhere else. When his grandma came by to check on them, she had taken one long look and walked out hours later with Tobio’s little hand securely in hers.

 

From then on, he would see his mom exactly three times a year: on his birthday, on the anniversary of his dad’s death and during the new year’s holiday. This went on for almost five years but he wouldn’t have minded if it lasted forever. Far too soon old age had caught up to his grandma and put her in a nursing home. Tobio found himself back in the place he used to call home with a stranger for a parent.

 

She had tried to put on a facade and make things seem as normal as they could, but Tobio, a little older and perceptive when he wanted to be, didn’t miss the way his mom refused to really look at him. She would shift her eyes just slightly off from his, and on the rare instances that they met, a split-second of eye contact was enough to paint her whole face in misery. It was a far cry from the warmth of his grandma’s eyes and Tobio felt as though the world had robbed him of love once again. He was confused and hurt and scared, and the more he felt, the less he said.

 

Left with no other way to channel his emotions, Tobio devoted himself even more to kendo, never missing a day without swinging his dad’s last present—a shinai. It was handed down to him a week after his grandma had moved him away, when she caught Tobio slashing the air with a soup ladle.

 

 _“Your dad wanted to save this for your tenth birthday,”_ his grandma had told him, smiling, _“it’s three years too early now, but you don’t mind, do you?”_

 

Spring had arrived and carried with it an invitation letter to attend the biggest sports academy in the prefecture on full scholarship. His grandma laminated and hung the letter on the wall of her ward, covered with various other award certificates Tobio had collected over the years.

 

His school was perfect for him; he didn’t ever have to worry about grades as long as he produced results in kendo. He had an excellent team with experienced coaches and skilled seniors. Training was rigorous, but still he would continue practising in the dojo long after the daily sessions were over. During the weekdays he worked himself to the bone, and in the weekends Tobio accompanied his grandma until she noticed the dark sky and shooed him away. He mastered the art of avoiding his mom and kept their conversations short, polite and formal. Distant and meaningless. Tobio was getting used to his life, and had even begun to feel satisfied with it. Everything was moving towards the right track, until his mom introduced him to a man that was about to become his new legal guardian.

 

His stepfather was an upright man. A hardworking filial son, willing to marry a widow with a teenage child, a good man, they said. All that was perhaps true, but every time Tobio looked at him, his mind formed only one question: ‘What about dad?’ He had voiced it out only once, to his grandma, and the look she cast upon him was so weary, so sorry that Tobio felt his stomach recoil.

 

_“Your mother is still a young woman. She was just a child when she met your dad—both of them were—but they were the love of each others’ lives. To get married straight out of school, and to raise a child when she was only twenty, all that she was able to do because your dad was there to help her. She took the loss harder than anyone else. I know what she’s done to you isn’t fair, Tobio, but I hope you find it in your heart to forgive her. If she wants to move on and let the past go, you should be happy for her. I know your father would’ve given them his blessing.”_

 

Nowadays Tobio recalls those words more often than anything. Instead of listening to his grandma, he was stubborn in his hurt. The choking taste of betrayal prevented all but fury to consume him whenever his stepfather tried to get closer to him. What used to be softspoken words full of manners were now rude, choppy barks and hostile growls. His mom was horrified, but each time Tobio caught the crestfallen look on her face his wrath burned even more. He was so blind in his own hatred he didn’t notice it spreading where it should not. His kendo team members, among them some people he had called friends, now stared at him with a strange look in their eyes. It was frustrating for him to see them refusing to push themselves forward. Didn’t they want to get better? If only they would listen to him, they could’ve improved so much more. Tobio didn’t know the meaning of that look, couldn’t be bothered to, didn’t spare any time to find out until it was too late.

 

He was in his third year, the most important tournament of his junior high career just a couple of weeks away. Scouts were coming over to watch the team’s open practice. Everyone knew they were there mostly to see Tobio, the famed kendo prodigy whose recruitment into the national team would surprise nobody. People lauded him a natural; his stance and steps were textbook exemplary, but it was his strikes, terrifically fast and precise, that earned him his reputation. None of those excellencies would be showcased that day, however. The other students had refused to be his sparring partner.

 

For a long while nobody made any move to stand opposite him, until the coach couldn’t take it anymore and called out a name. One after another he defeated whoever his couch summoned with two clean consecutive points, but Tobio did not obtain a single victory. All of them gave up the match before it even started. They swung their shinai at the air and passed it off as pathetic attempts at attacking. They put no effort in evading and defending against his hits.

 

 _“We can’t compare to the king, after all,”_ one of them said as the rest snickered in agreement.

 

That day marked the first time Tobio forgone practice after school.

 

He went straight home, wishing to sleep off his exhaustion. As he walked into the living room he heard his stepfather chattering happily with his mom. She had a joyful smile stretching her lips wide, and for the first time in eight years Tobio heard her laugh. The sound pierced through his chest.

 

His stepfather caught him staring at the hallway, and with mirth in his voice rose up to approach him. _“Welcome back! You’re home much earlier than usual. Come sit down, we’ve got good news for you!”_

 

Tobio didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want the man anywhere near him. Before he could warn him to stay away, his stepfather had reached out to take the shinai case slung across his shoulder. He saw the hand move as if in slow motion, and the moment those fingers grabbed the handle, all his frustrations from the day burst to the surface with a snap and Tobio saw red.

 

_“Let me help—”_

 

_“Don’t touch it!”_

 

The venom with which he spat the words had his stepfather jerking away like he’d just touched burning coal. And right then, Tobio might as well be. His head was pounding, his face scorching and his whole body tingled with jolts of sparks as he cradled the case in his arms. The look on his stepfather’s face was one he would remember for a long time. He dashed to his room, not daring to spare a glance at his mom. His stepfather stopped trying to talk to him after that night.

 

*****

 

Seven weeks passed by with Tobio spending all his time doing nothing but kendo. _Kendo was rewarding._ He had advanced to the final without a glitch, and was heavily favoured to win. _Kendo was easy to understand._ Follow the rules, gain the points. _Kendo was just._ You either lose or you win—the better one would always win.

 

It was the last round, but Tobio was not the least bit tired. He was one point away from being crowned the nationwide junior high champion. One moment he was preparing for the decisive thrust, and within the next his opponent sprawled on the ground with blood all over his face.

 

The surrounding noise muted into silence as bloodcurling wails rang in his ears. He stood frozen and watched the medics run to the stage, one of them quickly injecting the screaming boy with anaesthesia. The boy’s coach held his arm in a tight grip, muttering that it was going to be okay, that he was going to be fine. Someone grabbed Tobio away by the shoulders. He couldn’t remember who—his eyes were still trained to the stretcher carrying the boy out of the stadium.

 

Everything went on in a blur. When Tobio came to, he was crouching against his bed, eyes boring onto his dad’s heirloom. A broken piece of stave from his shinai had flown between the gaps of his opponent’s face guard, piercing through his right eye and straight into his brain.

 

It was unintentional. An accident. One Tobio was fully capable of preventing.

 

It was his fault.

 

One of the earliest memories he had of his dad was in their backyard. It was the morning of his fifth birthday and his dad was oiling Tobio’s shinai—his very first one, a birthday gift.

 

_“You need to always make sure it’s in good condition before using it. Oil the inside, file down any splinter, take good care of it, okay? The shinai is a weapon, once you raise it, it becomes your responsibility.”_

 

Once his dad was satisfied, he reassembled the staves passed the shinai into Tobio’s eager hands.

 

_“Is it heavy?”_

 

Tobio nodded, but didn’t let go.

 

_“Do you think you can handle it?”_

 

He nodded again, face determined and eyebrows scrunched. His dad barked out a laugh and ruffled his hair, cooing with pride _, “Aren’t you a big boy, now?”_

 

Reminiscing about that day had always used to make him happy. Right then it only made his failure all the more painful. He had used this shinai for eight years now, much longer than the average lifespan. When was the last time he checked for it? Since letting anger reigned over him, he only knew how to hit, hit and hurt. And to think he had been so mad when his stepfather had touched the case, foolishly thinking the man did not deserve to. If anyone was undeserving, it was him and him only. He had let his dad down. He had let his grandma down. He had let everybody down. Tobio hugged his legs closer to his chest and let his weary eyes close.

 

*****

 

The kid pulled through. His condition was stable now, thanks to the eye and brain transplant his stepfather had paid for under the pressure of the boy’s parents. They had threatened to sue. Tobio would gladly go to jail if he could trade off the guilt that was eating him alive. He knew the price must have been enormous. His classmate had to undergo a kidney transplant and his family sold off their car for it. He didn’t dare to imagine how much an eyeball and half a temporal lobe would cost. Tobio thought of apologising, or saying thank you, but what he ended up doing was locking himself in his room even after his mom had knocked on the door and told him he needed to eat. He didn’t think he could keep the food down if he saw their faces.

 

He drifted in and out of sleep throughout the day. Outside his window the sky was a clash of orange and blue. He badly needed to relieve himself. His stepfather should not have come home from work, and so, gathering his will, he opened the door to see a tray of meal waiting by his feet. With shaking arms, he carried the tray inside and put it on his desk. Once he was back from his trip to the toilet, he sat on his chair and peeled off the cling wrap. The smell of pork curry swirled around him. Alone in his room and eating his favourite dish, the salty taste of tears couldn’t deter Tobio from thinking this was the most delicious meal of his life.

 

*****

 

The following day he had offered a short greeting to his mom. The day after that, he lingered out of his room long enough to show his face to his stepfather. Tobio had nodded his head as the man entered the house, face sunken after a long day of work. He had wanted to do more, to say more, but his throat constricted upon seeing the man’s mild shock. A week went by in a blink before Tobio realised he had missed his usual visit to his grandma’s ward. He had not gone outside the house since the day of the incident, but he knew he couldn’t do it forever. In less than a month he was going to enter high school. Life would go on, and the weight of almost killing a person was something he had to live with from now on. He would start by talking to his grandma and actually listening to her this time. Grandma was always right.

 

When he was getting ready, Tobio heard soft taps against his door.

 

_“Tobio? We need to talk to you. Can you come out?”_

 

It was his mother. Various scenarios rapidly ran through him over what the purpose of the call would be. There were a lot of possibilities, he thought.

 

_“Tobio? Are you there?”_

 

_“...Yes. Just give me a moment.”_

 

His heart was starting to race, so he took a deep breath to brace himself. He was going to apologise. To the both of them. For everything. Feeling courage fill over him, Tobio left the safety of his room.

 

They were seated side by side and across the table was an empty chair for him. He sat down and looked ahead. His mom immediately brought her head down. He tried to suppress the urge to do the same and instead focused on his stepfather. The man met his gaze with a weary yet resolute stare.

 

 _“Your mother is pregnant,”_ his stepfather finally let out, pausing to gauge his reaction.

 

To say that he was shocked would be an understatement. None of the scenarios he had imagined could prepare him for this sudden announcement. He must have let his surprise show, because his stepfather held his mom’s hand before slowly adding on, _“We found out about it two months ago.”_

 

Tobio was even more puzzled. Why didn’t they tell him sooner? Why now? And then it hit him in the middle of his frantic thoughts. It was that day. This was the good news they had wanted to share, but he slammed it away before they could even say a word.

 

 _“I...”_ He could no longer fight the pull to look away. Shame and guilt rose up from the depth of his gut, but he would not yet be allowed to wallow in regret.

 

_“The organ transplants took everything from my saving. Which would’ve been alright, if they hadn’t chosen to demote me from next month onwards.”_

 

His stepfather spoke so lowly that had the surrounding not been enveloped by total silence, Tobio would have to strain his ears. But at that moment, those words were just too loud for him. He didn’t know what to say.

 

 _“The baby... It’s going to cost a lot for us. And I-I don’t have anything else to fall back on. I—”_ the next sentence seemed to get caught in his stepfather’s throat as the man choked back a silent gasp. His mom tightened her hold on their linked hands.

 

As they struggle to continue, Tobio’s eyes fell on her stomach. It had bulged out considerably for her slender frame; enough to make her pregnancy apparent. He wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before. After what felt like hours of quiet tension, Tobio heard the faint rustling of papers when his mom put forward sheets of triplicate on the table.

 

She inhaled loudly, voice trembling when she finally spoke, _“We’ve decided to sign the unwinding order.”_ A sob wrecked through her as the weight of what she had just said sank down. _“I hope you can understand.”_

 

Tobio blanked out.

 

He couldn’t hear or feel anything, only repeatedly reading the words ‘Kageyama Tobio’ and ‘5th of April’ printed on the sheets in black bold letters. That date had seemed vaguely important. He remembered now. It was the day of his highschool entrance ceremony. All of a sudden the sounds came back to him.

 

_“With your mother’s age, it’s going to be more dangerous for her to get pregnant later on.”_

 

_“Your father can’t support all of us anymore”_

 

_“We didn’t want to do this” “We have no other choice” “Please understand.” “We’re sorry—”_

 

Tobio bolted to the door. It was too much. He needed to run away. One more second and his skull was going to explode.

 

He didn’t register the two of them calling out after him. He ran and ran and ran. He ran even when his muscles cramped, protesting after a week of inactivity. He ran until his head cleared and all he could feel was the sweat drenching his body and the cold wind slapping against his skin. He ran, until his feet took him crashing to the gate of his grandma’s nursing home. Tobio puked his guts out. The bitter taste of bile is thick in his mouth. A strange sense of detachment took over him. He picked up his feet.

 

His grandma was absorbed by the television when he staggered inside her ward, but the sound of his steps quickly alerted her.

 

_“Goodness, look at you! What happened!?”_

 

Tobio knelt by her bed. _“I’m sorry grandma.”_

 

_“What for?”_

 

_“For forgetting to visit you.”_

 

She kept silent for a moment and then cupped his cheek, prompting him to look up at her. _“That’s no reason to look like you’ve been through death. You know I’m not mad... Now would you tell me what’s wrong?”_

 

_“I didn’t win the championship.”_

 

Tobio looked away when his grandma cocked her eyebrow.

 

_“...I injured my competitor.”_

 

 _“Oh Tobio,”_ his grandma moaned _, “you didn’t do it on purpose, did you?”_

 

He shook his head. _“But it was my fault. I was so stupid. It’s all my fault.”_

 

 _“Stop it,”_ she held his face with both of her hands to chide him _, “Don’t do that to yourself.”_

 

_“But—”_

 

 _“Tobio.”_ Her unspoken order was stern, and he could never disobey his grandma.

 

_“The kid, how is he?”_

 

 _“They say his condition is stable,”_ his grandma let out a small sigh of relief and Tobio bit through his lips, _“but I don’t know if he can still... if he will continue practising kendo.”_

 

 _“That is up to himself.”_ She released his face to and slid down to grip his shoulders. _“If you don’t want him to give up kendo, what you can do is apologise to him, help him recover, and motivate him. And learn to forgive yourself. Can you promise me to do that?”_

 

Tobio knew he wouldn’t be able to, not when his days were numbered, yet he muttered anyway, _“I’ll try.”_ He could feel his grandma smile against his hair.

 

“Good boy.”

 

Her embrace felt like home. He didn’t want to let go.

 

*****

 

Each time the sun set it stole away a little bit of Tobio’s sanity. One day his wrath had be so great it felt like his skin was splitting apart. Another day he was consumed by such misery there were no more tears to cry. He would spend a day more unconscious than awake, and on the next day barely slept a wink. Most of the time the chaos in his mind was worse than the nightmares, but sometimes they blended into one and Tobio couldn’t tell apart reality, imagination and dream from one another.

 

Today would be the day Tobio was going to pull himself together, if only for a while, for his grandma. The outside air felt weird on his skin. It had been almost a week since he last left his house.

 

His grandma welcomed him with her usual laid-back greeting, but he saw the hint of worry she couldn’t hide. They made small talks; she made it clear she wasn’t going to push for anything Tobio wasn’t ready to talk about, and he was immensely grateful for it. At the end of his visit he thanked her and told her he felt better, and that was the truth. He wouldn’t give her lies, because she didn’t deserve them. Soon, however, he would have to. No matter how many times he deliberated to tell her about his unwinding, he couldn’t bear to break her heart. Absorbed in fabricating a story to explain for his approaching departure, he didn’t notice a figure lingering in front of his house until he was only a few feet away.

 

The person had his back facing him, but it was such a familiar sight Tobio didn’t need to see his face to recognise who it was. He briefly wondered if he had really gone mad and began hallucinating. Warily, he called out,

 

_“Oikawa-san?”_


	2. Oikawa Tooru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- In group competitions, a kendo team typically comprised of five members fight consecutive matches with the opposing team. Each team member is assigned a position to determine the order of their match. Jihou, translated as second guard, is usually the least experienced member in the team while Taisho, or the general, is the strongest.
> 
> \- Kendoka is a term to describe someone who practices kendo.
> 
> \- Tsuki in kendo is a type of thrusting attack towards the opponent’s throat.

 

Oikawa Tooru is a busy man. Today is the weekend; he could be going on a date right now, or practise at the school dojo as he usually does this time of the day. He can even hang out at Iwaizumi’s place since the term break is only a few days away—his friend couldn’t use homework as an excuse to shoo him anymore. Best of all, he could for once take a break, relax and do nothing at home. God knows when was the last time he did that. Despite all those tempting options, Tooru waits. He prays his ex-girlfriend wouldn’t have any leftover grudge that she would leave without so much of a word after he had stood outside her part-time workplace for two hours. Actually, scratch that. In another ten minutes, it will be three full hours. But he has no other choice.

 

She’s the only one who can help him with his plan. A plan that, if it goes well enough, risks the reputation of a law-abiding citizen he has upheld for seventeen good years. A few days ago he wouldn’t have imagined ever doing this voluntarily. That was before he let curiosity get the better of him. Tooru can only hope the cat remains its sole victim.

 

_It’s all because of Tobio-chan._

 

*****

 

As far back as he could remember, Tooru had always been told that he was special. When he was a kid he had believed it. He was good at sports and good at studies. All the teachers remembered his name, the girls in class liked him the most and everybody wanted to be his friend. Life, for him, was good and easy. And just a little bit boring.

 

It was one of the many nights he slept over at Iwaizumi’s house. His friend’s father had just came back from a business trip and brought home a special souvenir—an action movie from the olden times. To his awe, the movie was contained in a flat circular disk called DVD and could only be played by a vintage gadget aptly named the DVD Player. At that moment, Tooru was extra grateful to have Iwaizumi as a best friend. Their family were the only people around who still owned all sorts of cool old stuff like those. Upon taking a look at the cover Iwaizumi’s mother sent a disapproving glare at her husband, who in turn immediately sent the kids to bed, but not before signalling to the clock and mouthing the number eleven. Rightfully excited, they waited past their bedtime for Iwaizumi’s father to finally sneak out and play the movie.

 

There were some glitches, the video resolution could have been clearer and the special effects were painfully outdated compared to what they were used to, but Tooru had his eyes glued to the screen throughout the whole duration. While Iwaizumi was more drawn towards the bare-handed passionate fights of the protagonist, he found himself captivated by the villain’s art of swordfighting. The clinks of metal served as an instrumental piece to accompany the man’s dance with his sword. It was a display of elegance, strength and wit like nothing he had seen before. It made Tooru’s heart race faster than he thought would be possible.

 

That night he had difficulty sleeping. Every time he closed his eyes, images of the man and his sword would flood his sight, and then his mind would reply the scenes recorded in his brain over and over again. Long after Iwaizumi had stopped moving, Tooru shifted in his bed yet again, unable and unwilling to clear the thoughts out of his head.

 

When he returned home the day after, Tooru greeted his parents by asking them to buy him a sword. At first they laughed at him, but soon it became clear that this was not just another childish whim. He couldn’t stop talking about the movie and would ask for a sword at every chance he had. A week of non-stop begging and his father gave him a plastic toy—the kind that was hollow inside and had a tip as blunt as its hilt. Tooru threw a tantrum. After a short drama involving a one-sided shouting match on his part, two smacks to his butt on his mother’s part, and even more wailing and yelling as a result, his father patiently explained to him the reason they couldn’t grant his wish. A ten year-old child couldn’t possibly own a real sword. Only adults with the necessary qualifications were allowed to apply for licence, and even then they might not be granted one. Regulation of weapons was very tightly controlled, and nowadays swords, or katana as his father had called it, were only used in traditional fish markets by old-fashioned fishermen to cut apart especially huge fish. Just before the image of his glorified swordsman was completely destroyed, his father told him as an afterthought that he could try and learn kendo instead. Desperate to salvage his first ever dream, and not very keen on becoming a fisherman at all, Tooru insisted on going to the nearest kendo dojo that very same day.

 

He was gravely disappointed to see the “sword” was round and funny looking. It was basically a wooden stick. Even his mostly plastic toy had more metal than that thing. The people did not fare much better in his eyes. They were repeating the same simple motion of swinging the stick forward, hitting nothing but the air. Some weren’t even holding their stick, instead sitting down on the floor in a weird position with their eyes closed. Tooru tried his best to be positive, really, but the only passably similar aspect to his ideal swordsman was the traditional looking clothing.

 

His father had explained the story behind their visit to the sensei in charge—a middle-aged man with a balding head—whilst Tooru walked around the dojo. He came back to his father’s side with slumped shoulders and a face deprived of hope. The sensei took one look at him, gave a small mischievous smile, and offered him a spar.

 

In his ten short years of living, Tooru had never had his ass whooped as hard, figuratively and literally. He sat on the ground, leg stinging from the impact with the stick, no, the shinai, and stared up in open wonder at the previously harmless looking man. Still in a daze, he weakly grabbed at the hand outstretched to him.

 

 _“You’ve got it wrong, kid,”_ the sensei grinned down before jerking him up, _“It’s not wood, it’s bamboo.”_

 

*****

 

Like a bird who had just learned how to fly, Tooru took up kendo and never looked back. There were so many strong people, and it exhilarated him to think that he could be like them. He could be even better. One by one he set up his goals and took them down. By the time he was twelve, none of the dojo members in his age range and level could match him. He was admitted to Kitagawa Daiichi via the yearly athlete audition, a decision he had insisted on taking although the quota was limited to 2 students per sport. The normal entrance exam was something he could have passed easily, but Tooru had learned not to take the easy road ever since he won his first match. The more difficult a climb, the greater the satisfaction when he finally reached the top. And what a beautiful view it was up there. He had found his wings and nobody could take them away from him.

 

There was always someone ahead of him, but he didn’t mind. He knew in time he would catch up to them and go on chasing after the next person. It was part of what made kendo so great. He always looked forward to the next challenge. What Tooru had not yet realised, after years of fighting his way above, was that there would also always be people behind you.

 

With the new academic year a batch of freshmen came and joined the club. He wondered how many of them would remain after one month. In his year a third of the members had quit within the first term, and the coach had called it a good year. Most of them were small and cute, Tooru thought, not having been graced by puberty and still clueless on the harsh regimen that awaited them. Kageyama Tobio was no different. He had an average height, average built, average haircut and hairstyle—nothing about him looked special. He was a quiet kid who mingled into the crowd, and Tooru had thought nothing of him. It began to change when the new members started disappearing and he noticed the same kid staying up everyday after practice. From just another faceless first year, Tobio was now the first year with good form. Tooru didn’t learn of the true extent of his skill until the rank placement test three months later.

 

It was something the coach held before every term break, pitting students from their respective years in practice matches tournament style. It would be Tobio’s first and Tooru’s seventh—five of which he won in a streak. On his first test he had taken the second place and Tooru made sure to never let that happen again. This year would be no exception. He knew it, and so did everyone.

 

The open secret was that nobody beneath the third rank would ever be chosen as the school representative in competitions. To say the members took this unofficial test more seriously than their year end examinations would be no exaggeration. That was why the matches between first years were always the most anticipated; they needed to gauge out the potential of the new ‘crop’. Tooru had previously found it both amusing and bemusing whenever tension developed between his peers and the juniors they perceived as threats. That day, seeing Tobio in a real match for the first time, he finally understood.

 

It was an unfamiliar indescribable feeling, bubbling from his gut and rising to his chest. It was unsettling. Tooru had always placed himself on the centre stage of his life, but right then he was reduced into just another spectator of the ridiculous display, of this twelve year-old boy fighting as if the sword was an extension of his flesh, as if he had been doing it all his life. It astounded him how natural his moves were. The boy was born for this.

 

Nobody questioned the decision to put Tobio as a regular member in team competitions. A freshman getting in after his first rank placement was unheard of in their school, but his capabilities had been as equally unprecedented. The tournament season soon rolled in and on he went, the only first year in the team, completely stomping away any lingering doubt on his worth by not losing a single match. It was either a win or a draw, and he almost always won. Tooru had heard many whispered variations of the same excuse, basically crediting Tobio’s impressive performance to his second guard position. Tooru wouldn’t fool himself. He knew if he let himself be just a little careless, Tobio would snatch the general title from right under his nose. It was obvious in the way those unnerving eyes weighed heavy upon his back. He would sit and silently watch, quietly absorbing Tooru’s every move and the next thing he knew, Tobio had gotten him down. It was unfair. It sickened him.

 

It frightened him.

 

_“You idiot, you can’t be seriously thinking that, can you? He’s just a freshman, a little kid half your size for God’s sake, stop spewing nonsense.”_

 

_“You don’t understand Iwa-chan. This isn’t like boxing where everything depends on how much muscles you have—”_

 

Iwaizumi slammed him with a blanket. _“Boxing is not all about muscles you dumbass.”_

 

 _“Yeah, more like ninety percent,”_ Tooru mumbled under his breath. He was swiftly struck by a pillow to the head. And another. _“Ouch, okay, okay, I get it! Stop hitting me if you’re not a muscle freak!”_

 

After throwing the last nearby pillow, Iwaizumi let him speak.

 

_“In kendo it doesn’t matter if you’re a woman, an old man, a skinny kid, as long as your shinai can land enough clean hits on the opponent, you win. And he’s so disgustingly good at doing exactly that. He got invited to our school on a scholarship, Iwa-chan, he’s going to surpass me soon. Everyone can see it.”_

 

_“Don’t put words in people’s mouths. Who’re these ‘everyone’ you keep talking about?”_

 

Tooru looked at him as if he had just asked the stupidest question, but Iwaizumi didn’t back down in his glaring.

 

_“Brood as much as you want, fact is you’re the best kendoka our school has. That, everyone really knows.”_

 

 _Not for long,_ he wanted to say. Iwaizumi meant well, but he couldn’t see what Tooru saw. If he was special, Tobio was a genius.

 

Tooru worked hard. He worked really, really hard. They said hard work beat talent. But if that was true, then Tobio had too much talent to spare for the amount of work he put.

 

*****

 

Sometime along the way, after numerous times fighting for the same team, the two of them developed a routine. Tobio would ask Tooru to teach him his tsuki technique, and Tooru would refuse. The first time it happened they both had been shocked—Tooru by what he considered an outrageous request and Tobio by the quick refusal. Seeing the freshman’s dejected face, Tooru feel a bit of guilt that lasted for one whole day until Tobio asked of him the same favour when they met again at practice. Tooru was beyond annoyed. Tobio must be doing it to spite him, because what kind of dense blockhead did not give up after multiple rejections per day? Apparently Tooru was not the only one bewildered by his action.

 

He hid inside the toilet stall, ears straining to hear Tobio’s answer to a teammate’s question on his relentless pleading.

 

_“Why? Oikawa-san is very good, isn’t he? Once he decides to attack, it’s really difficult to counter or defend even when you know he’s coming because his swings are so powerful.”_

 

When he heard the next sentence, Tooru felt his heart skipped a beat.

 

_“I really want to learn from him.”_

 

It was spoken in such a way that although Tooru didn’t see his face, he could clearly picture the awkward small smile Tobio had on his face every time he was excited about something.

 

He remained there even after the bell rang, head clouded with emotions. Tobio had been honest and straightforward, painfully so that it reminded him they were in a way very similar. The enthusiasm he held, that constant hunger to improve and be even better. When did kendo become something of a burden to him? It was supposed to be fun. Challenging, yeah, but just as fulfilling.

 

Tooru knew he had to stop projecting his insecurities onto Tobio. He was better than that.

 

It was not easy to tame the jealousy and fear that had been plaguing him, but Tooru tried. He still wouldn’t teach Tobio anything, because nurturing one’s potential rival was just not his style, but he stopped behaving as hostile anymore. When the nickname ‘Tobio-chan’ was previously laced with concealed hatred, it had become more of a mocking, teasing one. Occasionally Tooru would also squeeze or pinch his junior’s cheeks after he won a match. He even pulled Tobio into a strangle-hug on his graduation day.

 

_“You’ll be the team pillar soon, since your awesome senpai won’t be here anymore.”_

 

Before Tobio could say anything in protest, Tooru brought his hand down to ruffle roughly at his hair.

 

_“Don’t tarnish the reputation of our club’s general, Tobio-chan.”_

 

Tooru was grinning widely. Tobio’s lips curled into a determined scowl as he bowed his head, paying his last respect to the junior high graduate.

 

*****

 

Following his high school admittance letter, Tooru moved to the capital. He heard Tobio’s name a few times in passing, something that was happening more frequent by the year. He had won the national junior high championship at age fourteen and was predicted to take home the trophy for the second time this year. Tooru couldn’t wait to see how much he had grown, yet at the same time he was scared Tobio might have flown out of his reach. He didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t an article declaring the nullification of the junior high championship final round. Tobio had injured the other finalist bad enough that a rematch was out of the question and they had to cancel the award ceremony. Tooru could hardly believe it. The news wouldn’t leave him all day.

 

It distracted him to the point where the coach had to pull him out of practice to find out what was wrong. Unable to think of anything else, Tooru asked if his coach had seen the match. The man’s answer was a no, but the question led to a talk about his trip to Kitagawa Daiichi about two months ago. Once again, he was thoroughly dumbfounded. Tooru himself was recruited into his high school due to the visiting scouts, so to hear about the club members basically sabotaging Tobio left a terrible taste in his mouth. Just imagining being put in the same situation horrified him. What they did was cruel, and yet there had to be a reason behind it. Was it somehow related to Tobio gravely injuring his competitor? He quickly shook the thought; the kid respected kendo too much to intentionally hurt someone unnecessarily. It had to have been an accident. Tooru hoped it really was.

 

He spent the week trying to get some explanations with little success. Nobody seemed willing to talk about either incidents, and Tobio’s number couldn’t be contacted. It was all very unsettling. Tooru had to know what exactly happened—he had to stop this case from plaguing his mind somehow.

 

The following week, right after exams were over, he rode a train to his hometown. By the time he found his way to Tobio’s house it was already evening. No one answered the door. He could come back on the following day, but leaving right after he had come this far didn’t sit well with him. Tooru walked around, never straying too far while at the same time getting lost in thought. He almost didn’t register the sound of his own name coming from behind.

 

His voice was much deeper than it had been two years ago, but the person now standing across him could only be Kageyama Tobio.

 

_“Tobio-chan... What happened to you?”_

 

Compared to the junior in his memory, the only similarity Tooru could see was his physical appearance. This Tobio didn’t stand upright, didn’t hold his head high, didn’t look at people in the eye. He had grown a lot taller and became so much smaller.

 

_“What are you doing here, Oikawa-san.”_

 

 _“I want to talk to you.”_ Tooru stepped closer.

 

Tobio didn’t make any move or reply, only continuing to stare somewhere through him. He waited for another moment before speaking, _“I heard about the championship. And the scouts’ visit.”_

 

Tooru hadn’t thought it possible for the younger boy to look even more miserable. The sight clenched at his heart. Tobio squared his shoulders tensely, looking ready to burst, but seemed to change his mind at the last second and deflated with a loud exhale. He turned sharply towards the gate.

 

 _“Wait!”_ Tooru yanked him back by the arm. He was taken aback at the lack of resistance—their bodies almost crashed from the force of his grab.

 

 _“I’m tired,”_ Tobio kept his head down as he said it, barely above a whisper, _“Please let me go.”_

 

Loosening his grip, Tooru shifted to face him. _“What happened in the final round... was an accident, right?”_ He wasn’t prepared for the violent response.

 

 _“It happened because I was careless. I didn’t check my shinai, and he lost his eye and part of his brain because of it!”_ Each word was spoken louder, faster than the one before. _“It’s my fault.”_

 

Although Tooru knew it would be bad, the details still made his stomach drop. He swallowed back a shudder.

 

_“But he’ll be okay, right? You were in Tokyo, the hospitals there are huge, they must have a brain bank. He’ll survive with the transplants. I kno—”_

 

 _“You’re right,”_ Tobio cut in with a blank face. His eyes were rooted to the ground. _“If he had waited longer, they could even use my organs.”_

 

 _“What?”_ It didn’t make sense. What he was implying couldn’t be true. _“Don’t joke with me, Tobio-chan. That’s not funny,”_ Tooru said, but he couldn’t even muster a fake laugh.

 

For the first time on that day, Tobio really looked at Tooru. _“I’m an Unwind, Oikawa-san.”_

 

Tooru finally knew why he had been so disoriented. Tobio’s eyes were of someone that had accepted defeat. Before they parted, even the most crushing losses wouldn’t dull the shine from those eyes.

 

He was at a loss for words.

 

Tobio shook off his weakened grasp to retreat inside the house. He didn’t look back at Tooru, who stood still in the same spot long after he was gone. The ringing of cellphone broke his stupor. His mother had called to ask him if he was coming back soon, since public transport in this town didn’t operate past midnight. Tooru didn’t realise just how long he had stayed.

 

*****

 

After a quick meal and long hot bath, he was fully ready to embrace sleep, but his curiosity won over drowsiness and Tooru found himself unable to stop researching about Unwind.

 

It all started when a scientist won the Nobel Prize for neurografting, a technology enabling every single part of the human body to be transplanted. At that time, the United States was embroiled in civil war that threatened the power balance of the world. The citizens were split into two sides: pro-life and pro-choice, and the military was overpowered. To prevent the country from collapsing, a peace treaty in the form of the Bill of Life was passed, intended to satisfy and provide both sides with a middle ground. Included in the Bill of Life, was the Unwind Accord. Pregnant women could no longer abort their foetus; instead, they could send their unwanted children for unwinding. With the constant demand for replacement organs, it didn’t take long for the practice to spread to the rest of the world.

 

_This way, your unwound teenagers will still technically remain alive, just in a divided state. They will greatly contribute to the rest of the society and be of help for so many people._

 

Tooru had to suppress his nausea from reading that part too many times. All the articles and testimonies he came across were basically glorifying an act of murder. It was sickening, yet what got to him even more was that once, he had thought of it as a norm. Unwinding had been no different than the rest of the law—criminals went to jail, “bad” kids got unwound. It was something that had been established even before he was born. It had been something out of his concern.

 

In the two years they didn’t see each other the boy might have changed, but the Tobio he knew, annoyingly talented, quiet, persistent and polite Tobio, he couldn’t bear to imagine unwound. Tooru closed his eyes when he felt an incoming headache.

 

The next thing he knew, he had slept late into the afternoon. Out of habit, he searched the bed for his phone to check for notifications. There was one from Iwaizumi. With the events from the previous night still weighing heavily on his mind, Tooru typed out a message.

 

Iwa-chan, what if you suddenly find out I’m an unwind?

  
What kinda question is that  
Idiot, what did you do?

  
Just tell me what you’d do

  
You sick or something?

  
Nooooooo

  
What’s the point, you're turning 18 soon

  
If, Iwa-chan, IF  
I want a serious answer  
Please

Seriously, what is it?  
Oi shittykawa

 

He knew his friend was probably worried, but he couldn’t exactly tell him about Tobio. A few minutes later, Iwaizumi finally replied again.

 

I’ll tell you to run away and hide until your 18 birthday  
Maybe you can hide at my house  
Wait, no, I think the cops will come and check  
Find an awol hideout

  
Those are real?

  
What, the hideout?  
I dunno, rumours said  
Now can you tell me what’s this about

  
I stayed up all night reading about unwinds  
It’s scary  
Now I wanna know if they can escape somehow  
Is it possible?

  
Why are you asking me  
How would I know  
Go ask that gymnast girl

  
What?

  
That girl you used to date  
her brother used to be a runaway unwind right?  
You kept talking about it

 

Tooru bolted up so fast his laptop slid down the bed and crashed to the floor. Right then he couldn’t care less about it. How did he forget about that? It was less than a year ago when he had made quite a fuss over Aya’s—his then girlfriend—brother dropping by on her birthday. From what she had told him, her brother ran away from home when he was sixteen. He successfully went undetected for another two years before coming back alive and whole and well past the age limit of unwinding. As he quickly scrolled through his contact list, Tooru thanked himself for never deleting his exes’ numbers.

 

_“Hello, Aya-chan? It’s me. Do you have time to talk?”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you’ve probably noticed, the chapter title changes according to the character point-of-view I write it in. The tone and writing style will change slightly from one p.o.v to another, and I hope it doesn’t bother/throw you off too much. Also, thank you so so so very much for your comments and kudos! They really help boost up my confidence and motivate me to write more lol. I appreciate them a whole lot <3


	3. Tobio & Tooru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update! This chapter has more oikage interaction, less flashbacks and dual pov, I hope it can make up for my tardiness hahaha...ha...

 

When he is absolutely sure everybody has left, Tobio creeps out of his room. He drags his feet to the dining table and slumps on one of the chair. As usual, his mother has his portion of breakfast arranged neatly underneath the cover. Tobio picks up his chopsticks to start eating. At first he deliberately refused to touch her food as some form of rebellion, but he soon realised it was pointless. She already decided to get him unwound, there’s no reason for her to worry about his well-being. The only one suffering had been his stomach, all because of his stupid stubborn starving act. Now he makes sure not to leave a single thing uneaten. Savour as much as he can while his taste buds are still connected to his brain.

 

Once he finishes his meal he walks around the house to let the food settle down. The letters he finds in the mailbox are mostly bills, but one envelope in particular catches his attention. It’s from the school he had applied for and should have been enrolling in. Tobio doesn’t really care about what the content might be, only that it reminds him of Tooru’s sudden appearance a week ago. The letters wrinkles under the weight of his grip. He doesn’t know what possessed him to blurt out so easily about his unwinding. Might be the same thing that possessed Tooru and brought him from out of town to someone he hadn’t seen for almost two years. While he had brushed it off during their encounter, the look of utter shock on Tooru’s face keeps replaying in his mind. Is it hard to believe that he’s getting unwound? He wonders how his club members would react, if they would be as shocked. Perhaps they would say he deserved it. Maybe Tooru will think he deserves it too, after his surprise wears off. But Tobio thought--thinks he saw worry reflected in those eyes. Mulling over it makes his head hurt.

 

It has always been difficult for him to guess what goes on inside the other boy’s mind. A lot of times he can be very unpredictable. Tobio remembers mostly being teased or bothered, but there were moments Tooru would behave so coldly even he knew not to approach him. Contrary to what everyone else thought, he did notice Tooru’s moodswings were more prone to happen when he was involved. But he couldn’t help it. Although he knew the upperclassman would rather lick his own shoe than grant his request, as he had explicitly said once, Tobio couldn’t stop wanting to learn from him. Watching Tooru had always left him in awe. He aspired to be as good as him.

 

Tobio paces back inside his room, crumpling the letter and tossing it into the bin. He flops face down into the bed, intent on pushing all thoughts out of his head. Soon he drifts in and out of sleep along with the lull of sounds from outside.

 

Hours pass by before he jerks up at the loud clang of stone against glass. He stumbles, disoriented from the rough awakening, and quickly looks around for the source of the noise. He spots a crack on the window and moves to examine it, but before he can get close another stone comes hurling and this time the impact is hard enough to create a small hole. A faint curse filters through his ears and his fear is swiftly replaced by bewilderment. Carefully he treads towards the window to confirm his suspicion and sure enough, Tooru is pressed against the gate in panic.

 

“Tobio-chan? Are you hurt? I swear I didn’t mean to break your window! I tried knocking and pressing the bell but you didn—hey wait! Where are you going!?”

 

Ignoring the calls, Tobio runs out to unlock his door, momentarily getting the key stuck in his haste. Tooru has stopped yelling by the time he takes a step outside the gate. They stare at each other for a while, Tobio gathering his breath and Tooru scanning his body for any sign of injury. Relieved as he finds none, Tooru looks up again to see the younger boy gazing at him incredulously.

 

“What…” He starts and stops abruptly, still unsure of what he just witnessed.

 

Tooru raises his hands before he starts talking, “Okay, first of all, about the window. I only wanted to check if you’re home, really.”

 

“I was sleeping.”

 

“Yes, well, you slept like a log. I rang the bell so many times my finger hurts.” He wags his index finger in front of Tobio’s face. The action is met by an unimpressed look that in turn snaps him back to the current situation. Clearing his throat with a cough, Tooru composes himself. He then musters a sharper glare. “Let’s have a match.”

 

“What?”

 

“A kendo match. You and me.”

 

Tobio frowns and ducks his head down. Tooru tries to wait for a reply, but after long minutes of silence his patience runs out and he snatches Tobio’s hand.

 

“Wait, what are you doing!?”

 

The grip on Tobio’s wrist is strong and unrelenting against his rough jerking. Tooru turns to start walking without sparing him a glance. Caught in surprise, he lets himself be dragged for a few metres before he realises what is happening and skids his feet to a stop.

 

Whipping his head around, Tooru grunts and grabs his other hand. “Stop being so difficult!”

 

Tooru forcefully tugs him forward, probably assuming resistance but Tobio is still baffled at the ridiculous accusation that he fails to react in time and they end up crashing and tumbling down. Tooru’s right shoulder—where Tobio’s head lands on—is probably going to bruise spectacularly, as will his lower back and elbows. He looks over to Tobio, who doesn’t fare much better with the bloody scrapes on his knees and forearm. Unlike Tooru who is wrapped up from head to toe, he is clad only in a short-sleeved shirt and boxer shorts. After a moment of groaning and hissing they disentangle their limbs and sit down on the pavement.

 

Tobio prods at his knee and winces. The cuts are thankfully not very deep, but they are nonetheless painful. He hears Tooru mumbling under his breath before moving closer to him. A hand gingerly hovers over his injured arm to rest lightly on his elbow.

 

“This is why you should’ve just listened to me.” Tooru clucks his tongue. Despite his words his tone is not reprimanding, instead weak and exasperated. “…’m sorry.”

 

Faster than he can blink, Tobio whips his head to look at Tooru. Never had he heard him utter a sincere apology. Even the empty fake versions he had never been given before, and he doesn’t expect to get a real one especially after their scuttle. It feels strangely good, different from the contempt and hurt he gets whenever his mom apologises.

 

“Just… this time, just, follow me, okay?” asks Tooru, his voice almost pleading. “Listen to your senpai for once.” He offers a weak smile, fingertips pressing slightly on Tobio’s skin.

 

Tobio, finding himself unable to refuse, nods silently. They go back to his house to treat the wounds as best as they can, and afterwards he changes into more suitable outerwear. Half an hour later they are riding a bus to a destination he isn’t familiar with, but he figures wherever and whatever Tooru plans to do with him couldn’t be worse than his upcoming unwinding. The journey passes in silence and before long, Tooru is tugging at him to come down. They walk a short distance to a contemporary looking building and further in is an unexpectedly traditional dojo that stops him in his track. He hasn’t stepped inside one ever since the incident. On one hand, he misses it terribly, but on the other, he is terrified.

 

Tooru takes off his shoes and breezes past him to greet the few people inside. They greet him back with enough familiarity and long-time-no-sees for Tobio to deduce the place to be where Tooru used to practise. He shortly introduces Tobio as his former junior and the pressure of their friendly beckoning finally tips him in. In the small talks that follows Tobio couldn’t stop fidgeting as if he would run away at any moment. Noticing him growing tense, Tooru excuses himself and guides him to the locker room.

 

Once the door closes, Tobio mutters, “Why did you bring me here?”

 

“To have a match, of course. I said it, didn’t I?” Rummaging through a cupboard, Tooru fishes out a set of uniform and pushes it to him. “Now get changed.”

 

Tobio watches him bring out his own set while he stays unmoving, the clothes clutched to his chest. When Tooru slams the cupboard close and sees him still in the same spot, he raises an eyebrow.

 

“I’m not fighting you,” he says after Tooru hums in a questioning tone.

 

“Who says we’re fighting? It’s a match, a m-a-t-c-h. Something you kept pestering me for when we were schoolmates. Now that I’m the one asking you suddenly don’t want to? Playing hard-to-get is a no-no nowadays, Tobio-chan.”

 

Even as he babbles Tooru sees the other boy isn’t focusing on him. His eyes are faraway, replying the memory haunting his nightmares. Tooru had hoped his teasing would bait out the familiar scowl, fire him up albeit in the wrong way. Anything but this genuinely scared boy traumatised by guilt.

 

“I’ll wear an eye guard. You wear it too.” He steps away to give him some space, and turns around to start undressing. “It’ll be okay.”

 

As soon as he finishes changing Tooru gathers up the protective gears and comes back to Tobio fastening his belt. He tries not to let his delight show, but a smile escapes him anyway.

 

***

 

It takes four rounds of one-sided attacks, taunting remarks from Tooru and Tobio getting knocked off his feet for the former to slump down the floor. Despite succeeding in getting him all geared up and in position, Tooru is stuck with the shadow of the prodigy he once knew. He zooms in on the way Tobio’s hands are trembling from the force of holding himself back from swinging his shinai. It’s a possibility he had considered, but the reality confirms Tobio is much more affected than he hoped he would be.

 

“So that’s it? You’re just going to throw everything away? This is pathetic, Tobio-chan.”

 

Tobio doesn’t budge, doesn’t even look at him from his spot on the floor. “There’s no point anymore,” he murmurs impassively.

 

Tooru exhales out his frustration in a long sigh. He removes his head gear before laying down.

 

“You know, it was here when I first learned kendo. Ten year old me felt invincible with the shinai in my hands. It was like I could take over the world. Amazing, really. I believed I’d be better than everyone, because I was strong.” He removes the arm draped over his eyes to glance at Tobio. “But then you appeared out of nowhere, this grumpy looking kid who achieved what I did in less than half the time. I hated you.”

 

Tobio balls his fists at the word hate. Tooru goes on.

 

“Everytime you asked me to teach you, it felt like you were mocking me. Like, what did this kid think he was doing? He really thought I’d just happily say yes and help him get better? One day, by accident, mind you, I heard something that made me realise you were that big of an idiot after all. I never thought you viewed me that highly.” It’s difficult to admit his feelings while facing Tobio, so Tooru snorts and shakes his head, looking at the ceiling.

 

“I mean, I know I’m super great and all, but… I’ve always seen you as a threat, waiting to snatch my place when I make the smallest mistake. I should’ve known you weren’t that sleek, haha, you’re just a kendo maniac. That’s actually even more scary, but what can I say, I’m pretty much the same. Well, much smarter and more good-looking too!” He sneaks in a smirk before continuing, “What I’m saying is I need that annoyingly talented, stupidly persistent boy back. That boy I knew never gives up, you see. It’s almost admirable.”

 

He has Tobio’s full attention now, that piercing eyes he was so afraid of directed to him. It’s still rather overwhelming and Tooru thinks he will never get used to it, but he knows this is not the time to flinch. So he stares back at him and asks, as steady as he can, “Do you want to get unwound?”

 

For a fraction of second, Tobio’s eyes widen. They dart to the right, down, anywhere but ahead. His answer comes out as a whisper, as if confessing a criminal act when he says, “No.”

 

“You want to live.”

 

His breath hitches with Tooru’s statement. It’s the thought he has stopped daring to have and hearing it spoken strings his body tense. “Yes.” It’s not even sadness he feels, but tears drip down his cheeks. “I want to live.”

 

Tooru rises up to sit across him and thumps his fist over his heart. The punch is light but his words etch through Tobio’s skin.

 

“Then fight for it.”

 

***

 

The trip from the dojo to the nursing home takes more than an hour and when he reaches it’s well past evening. Visiting time is over, but the carers know him well enough to give him a pass.

 

“Sorry I’m late.”

 

“How many times do I have to repeat you don’t have to drop by if you’re busy, huh? Come here.”

 

Tobio drops his bag and lets his grandma hugs him. He then sits by her bed and puts his hand on top of hers.

 

“About that… I might not be able to visit you regularly anymore.” She looks a little taken aback, but otherwise says nothing. Tobio takes it as a cue to start explaining.

 

“I’ve been accepted to this school in Tokyo. They have a special curriculum for martial arts, and a lot of famous athletes went there.”

 

“Tobio, I may be old but that doesn’t mean I don’t know about the best sports academy in Japan. Especially with you as a grandson.” She squeezes his hand playfully. “So you’re going to Itachiyama. I can’t say I didn’t expect that.”

 

His grandma looks proud and happy for him, and it hurts even more that he has to lie to her. “Yeah,” he can’t help sounding a little shaky when he speaks, “I heard they have very strict rules. My senior is a third year there, he only comes back to Miyagi once a year on summer break. The rest of the holidays is spent in training camps, for competitions.”

 

She promptly laughs. His confusion soon turns into worry as her guffaws evolve into a coughing fit. She accepts his glass of water and takes a few gulps, but still lets out a few giggles after. “You must be excited then. It’s basically your dream comes true.”

 

Tobio huffs a small smile, amazed at how she always manages to find the joy in everything. “Yeah. But I’ll be far away. I don’t think I can come back every week.”

 

“Have you heard of the phrase distance makes the heart grow fonder? You come here so often I’m getting bored of your face. Perhaps if I see you less frequent I will have enough time to miss you for a change.”

 

She is smiling at him and the affection it holds has him ducking down in shame. Had the unwinding order never been signed, he knows he would gladly travel the four-hour round trip if it meant he could see that same smile every week.

 

He leans into her touch when she pats his arm. “Thank you grandma.”

 

At nine the carers do their last round of check-up and Tobio bids his goodbye. On the way home his steps are lighter; deceiving his grandma might have cost him guilt but the weight lifted off his shoulders is ultimately much greater. Knowing she won’t find out the truth, at least for a while, relieves him. Moreover, he now has a chance to see her again if what Tooru told him proves to be true.

 

His parents, about to retreat to bed, appear to be shocked when he walks into the house. They must have thought he was holing himself inside his room as usual, and he’s thankful for their lack of interference because that means the hole in his window remains undiscovered. He scarves down his dinner and sweeps clean the glass shards before allowing himself a shower. He had forgotten about the scrapes until a sharp pain stings them when the water hits. They hurt, but he’s overcome with the urge to grin. After all the events that should have worn him down, Tobio is filled with an energy his body had not felt in what seemed like forever.

 

Hope is a fearful thing. It overpowers despair in an instant. Of course he is still doubtful, but when cornered with no other option it’s easy to cling to the only one. He drifts back to the conversation they had earlier that afternoon.

 

 _“I know someone who used to be an unwind,”_ Tooru blurted right after he removed his fist from Tobio’s chest. _“He didn’t get unwound because he ran away. Went AWOL.”_

_“Nobody caught him?”_

_“Almost actually, once. But long story short, he disappeared for two years and magically reappeared after he turned eighteen. They couldn’t unwind him anymore.”_

 

 

Tobio pondered on the information. He had heard stories about runaway unwinds, but what he didn’t stop to consider was the fact that they were basically free after passing the age limit.

 

Tooru frowns at him. _“Tsk… Aren’t you going to ask me how?”_

 

 _“How?”_ He scooted closer when Tooru motioned him to, despite the two of them being the only people in the room.

 

 _“He found the unwind sanctuary,”_ whispered Tooru, voice getting progressively lower. _“Apparently there’s an organisation helping AWOL unwinds and they’re based in some abandoned island. It’s a well kept secret, but if you successfully get there, you can stay until your eighteenth birthday. That’s what this guy did.”_

 

Tobio thought the story sounded too good to be true, but his mouth was wide open in a gape.

 

_“He said he was willing to help. He wants to see your unwind order first, though, to make sure you’re the real deal and not some cop-spy. I’ve already agreed to meet him this Tuesday in Tokyo. You’re coming, right?”_

 

Tobio nodded furiously. _“Yes,”_ he gasped loudly. _“Yes.”_

 

Tooru grinned at him and stood up. _“That’s more like it.”_ He put his head guard back on and snatched up a shinai. _“Now fight me more seriously!”_

 

His own lips quirked up. He wasn’t about to point out how Tooru was the one to insist they would not be fighting.

 

_“I’ll try.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one week late OTL I'm terribly sorry for those of you who waited and got none sobs. The past weeks I barely had time to use my laptop between babysitting, travelling and house cleaning so I basically rushed to finish this chapter... I hope it's still legible ;;  
> but thank you so very much for all the lovely comments and kudos, they give me the utmost joyyyyy <3333


	4. Oikawa Tooru (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry again for the late update??? I'm not abandoning this fic but I don't think I can keep my promise of updating weekly because I've sort of started working and my job is pretty unpredictable so I don't even know when I could have the time to just sit down and write D: That's also why this chapter is choppy as hell since they're basically gathering of scraps I sneak-write whenever I can DD: Forgive meee

Tuesday is an anxious wait for Tooru. He had promptly decided to skip on the school trip after spending the first day of spring break in Miyagi with Tobio. The excuse is a family business, but Iwaizumi calls bullshit on it.

 

“Does it have anything to do with the bruises?”

 

They are in Iwaizumi’s room, him lounging out on the bed while his friend is shoving clothes into his luggage.

 

“These are battle wounds, Iwa-chan,” he huffs proudly, flexing his biceps in exaggerated movements.

 

Iwaizumi spares a moment from his last-minute packing to frown at him. “It’s useless to say this to you, but don’t do anything stupid.”

 

Clutching his shirt in faux pain, he whines, “How mean! You can express your concern in a nicer way, you know. Instead of worrying over me though, you should take this chance to finally start a budding youthful romance. Think about it. You have three days and two nights to mingle with lovely highschool girls in the romantic city of Kyoto! Aahhh, such bliss~”

 

“Shut up.” Iwaizumi throws a balled-up jacket at his face. “You sound like a gross old pervert.”

 

He sticks out his tongue and winks, then tosses the jacket back and jumps down from the bed. They walk out of the room, Tooru leading the way and Iwaizumi trailing behind after locking the door.

 

“Make sure to buy me lots of nice things!” yells him as the bus departs. It’s meant mainly for Iwaizumi, but he gets a few other replies from his classmates. He laughs and waves, retreating only when they are out of sight.

 

The dorm is unusually quiet now, with majority of the students away on holiday. He doesn’t really mind the silence. In fact it’s rather helpful in calming down his nerves. Distracting himself from paranoid thoughts, Tooru muses on the conversation they had earlier and chuckles a little. If only Iwaizumi knew what he has already done.

 

Begging to meet up with a girl, a past girlfriend with whom he split not-so-amicably more than six months ago? His reputation would cry, but check. Further begging and kneeling and bowing down to the girl’s brother for help? Check. What is pride anyway. Almost trespassing on someone else’s private property, damaging a part of said property and attempting to basically kidnap a person? Three beautiful big checks. All that’s missing is assisting a fugitive escape the government. He isn’t sure those actions can be categorised as merely stupid anymore, but decisions have been made and he is going to see them through until he gets that one last check.

 

*****

 

The train station is ridiculously packed in the morning. Tooru has to jostle through throngs of arriving passengers before he finally spots Tobio amongst the crowd. He’s already looking a lot better, Tooru thinks, a lot less like a walking corpse. The boy is dressed in black tracksuit, equipped with a fanny pack that makes his own rucksack looks ridiculously huge in comparison.

 

“Is that all you have?” he gestures to the tiny bag.

 

Tobio in turn eyes his baggage-laden back confusedly. “I’ve got my wallet, my phone and the order… I don’t know what else to bring.”

 

In his rucksack he stores a change of clothes, water bottles, food, umbrella and a baseball bat. A swiss army knife rests snugly inside his front pocket. He’s about to go on a rant on how naive to possible danger a person can be when Tobio interjects, “My mom might get suspicious if I take too many things.”

 

Tooru quiets down for a moment. He reaches inside his bag and tosses out a bread for Tobio to catch. “Well, a little snack won’t hurt.”

 

They end up eating all of his food supply before reaching the destination, a choice Tooru soon regrets as queasiness rises within him. The neighbourhood they are currently at is ill-fitting to the rest of metropolitan Tokyo, looking more similar to the abandoned unpopulated cities portrayed in post-apocalyptic films. Tooru wishes he had gotten the wrong address, but the writing on the piece of paper doesn’t seem to change no matter how hard he stares at it. The house—if it can count as one—somehow manages to be even more dilapidated than the surrounding buildings.

 

He glances back at Tobio, who is turning a little pale now, and tries to breathe in extra courage. He gets a lungful of stale air instead.

 

“Well,” Tooru winces at the rusty doorknob, “here goes nothing.”

 

His fist makes loud knocks against the door. The hinges creak with each movement. “Nakajima-san? It’s Oikawa.”

 

The steady thumps of approaching footsteps pick up right after his sentence ends. Tooru palms his knife through the fabric of his pants, heart wildly hammering. Instinctively he steps back, inching closer towards Tobio to shield him with his arm. The door slowly opens to reveal a young man with bleached blonde hair. He takes a few seconds to look them over, then motions for them to come in. Tooru nods at Tobio to follow him.

 

Belying its outward appearance, the interior of the house is thankfully much cleaner, brighter and overall suitable enough for living. The sofa they are told to sit on is quite comfortable albeit more on the firm side. Tooru allows himself to relax a little when Nakajima reappears, now wearing a pair of glasses.

 

He cocks his head at Tobio, “So, you’re the unwind?”

 

“...Yes.”

 

“Can I see your unwinding order?”

 

Tobio unzips his bag and hands Nakajima the sheets of triplicate. Tooru had only ever seen them in pictures before. The actual papers are much thinner and flimsier than he had imagined. It feels wrong somehow, to write off someone’s future on something so frail.

 

“Kageyama Tobio, huh.” Nakajima reads, thumb stroking over the parent signature column, feeling the indent from the pen. “You guys wait here for a while.”

 

They watch Nakajima rise and retreat into another room with the order. Tooru’s shoulders slump once it’s just the two of them, feeling suddenly tired. He eases off his rucksack and sets it aside to reduce the strain, having forgotten to do so in his nervousness. The bottled water tastes amazingly refreshing, he’s just about to offer it to Tobio when he notices him staring weirdly at something inside his bag.

 

“Is that a baseball bat?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Why do you have a baseball bat in your bag?”

 

“To play baseball, obviously.”

 

His answer is of course sarcastic, but he gets reminded of just how dense Tobio can be when the boy replies with an ‘oh’. Tooru is equally frustrated and amused. “Seriously, Tobio-chan. It’s for self defence. Just in case.”

 

He doesn’t know how or why, but this explanation surprises Tobio more than the previous one and he can’t hold back the ugly snorts of laughter upon looking at his face.

 

“God, you’re so stupid,” he squeezes out between muffled breaths, “Why am I helping you.”

 

Tobio looks like he wants to protest, but he whips his head down and clenches at his knees. Sensing something wrong, Tooru wills his cackling to stop. Their attention is swiftly turned to Nakajima walking out of the room. He gives back the triplicate to Tobio and removes his glasses as he sits across them.

 

“It’s been submitted and officially registered in the database, so your order is irreversible and most likely real.”

 

“That’s something you can check?” questions Tooru at the same time Tobio asks, “There are fake orders?”

 

Nakajima hums, folding his arms. “Yes to both. The unwinding order won’t be valid unless it’s been signed and submitted to government authorities for approval. Sometimes parents try to scare their children with unregistered orders. Get them to behave. Works quite often, but you also have ungrateful little bastards like me taking the warning for granted.” He scoffs and shrugs, shaking his head. “Most people aren’t so lucky. They’ll be blissfully unaware until that one day a group of cops show up to take them to harvest camps and just like that, their chance to escape is gone. Once you get stuck in a harvest camp, there’s no running away. Nobody can save you.”

 

His words sink heavy in the air around them. The distant look in his eyes is gone within a blink, and he clears his throat and gathers himself, refocusing.

 

“The thing is, the government knows about us. There are just too many runaway unwinds, and while most of them get caught, the lot that got away isn’t exactly small. When rumours get too loud, they’ll plant moles, create fake identities. We have hackers to determine the validity of the orders, but even then, it’s not always a guarantee since they can just register the made-up identities. They’ve only gone to that extent a couple of times as far as I know, but we’re not taking chances. It’s not so much about what will happen to us, because at most we’ll get jail time and fine, but the captured unwinds… they won’t even go to harvest camps, they’ll be sent straight for unwinding.”

 

Nakajima pins his gaze on Tobio as he speaks, “It’s a good thing you’re not exactly an average kid. We usually take more precaution, but this time our hacker didn’t have to do any hacking to get sufficient data on you. It also helps that you got here through personal connection.” His eyes sweep over to Tooru.

 

The surge of pride feels quite inappropriate, so he shoots it down with the question that has been pressing on his mind, “So you can help him?”

 

“I’ll do what I can,” he tells them both. “I won’t be there to personally guide you all the way to the sanctuary, that’s not how it works for a number of reasons. I’ll do my part, which is to prepare you and make sure you get to the next stop, and then the people there will do their part.”

 

Tobio, who has been quietly listening since Nakajima starts talking, breaks his silence with an unsure murmur. “How long…?”

 

“The journey? It can take weeks or months. There’s no fixed amount of time, but just hang on because we’ll be doing everything we can to get you there.” He leans forward, uttering clearly, “We have only one purpose, and that’s to save as many of you as we can.”

 

Tooru feels Tobio shiver. The radiating conviction with which Nakajima speaks raises the hair on his arms; it’s clear that it affects the other boy even more strongly.

 

“Thank you!” Tobio bows down his head. Part of his face is covered by hair, but Tooru can see his lips are trembling and just this time, he won’t tease him for crying—because his own eyes are pricking.

 

Nakajima huffs out a little laugh. “Thank me after you’re free.”

 

*****

 

They don’t talk much on the way back, each occupied with his own thoughts and the load of new information. Nakajima advised them to wait until the night before the date written in Tobio’s order, as disappearing anytime earlier would likely warrant a search party.

 

Tooru flashes two student cards when he nods to the security guard, hiding Tobio’s behind his. The guard smiles back and allows them in. He strides ahead to enter the dorm, but when he looks back Tobio is not behind him. The boy stands a distance away in the open field, taking in the school buildings and the rows of flowering trees. It reminds Tooru of his own self two years ago, the same look of awe plastered on his face.

 

“Huge, huh?” His voice cuts Tobio out of his trance. “I was sooo pumped up on my first day, when I was just a freshman walking through the gates for the first time. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, the wind was blowing, and everything looked so white and grand and majestic.” He glances at Tobio, who finally tears his eyes away from the view and saunters forward.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You wanna look around?”

 

Tobio snaps his head up, steps halted momentarily. He hesitates for a bit before catching up to Tooru. “No, it’s fine.”

 

They are right outside of his room and Tooru is about to unlock the door. Tobio mutters, “I’m-I was supposed to go here.”

 

The key clicks right in time to the drop in his heart. Tooru swallows, entirely unsure of what to do or say in this sort of situation. He throws his rucksack on the bed and takes off his jacket, mind still reeling for an answer when he almost stumbles on his shinai case. “Well, wanna spar?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Just a short one. We still have some time before the last train.”

 

Looking muddled, probably because the offer comes out of nowhere, Tobio doesn’t reply immediately.

 

Tooru tries again. “The practice hall is really big.”

 

Tobio stares blankly at him.

 

“It’s like, thrice the size of our middle school dojo.” He makes a wide gesture with his hands. “There’s even a separate section for practice match, like the ones for competitions.”

 

“Okay…”

 

For someone who sounds initially reluctant, he turns into a different beast on the floor. Tooru curses under his breath as he barely fends off another thrusts to his ribs. It was only three days ago when he had to force him to at least stand in form, and now here they are, aggressively scouring for points in a tight match. It took a while for Tobio to warm up. Once he had adjusted, however, Tooru couldn’t land more than a single hit. He knows he has the greater stamina and power, but Tobio is so agile, he executes every single move with uncanny accuracy. With no referee and time limit, their rally of attacking and defending goes on and on.

 

It’s very frustrating. His adrenaline is pumping wilder by the second. He’s enjoying this too much.

 

Putting all his strength in a continuous string of strikes, he waits for that brief moment Tobio raises his arms to deflect him and leaves his sides open. The gap is small, but his shinai scrapes by and thuds on impact with the armour. It’s not the most accurate or well-executed hit. In fact it’s a little short and not as strong as he would like, and yet he cries out a triumphant yell that resonates through the walls.

 

Tobio sinks down to the floor in front of him and weakly removes his head guard to gasp for more air. Tooru joins him shortly, legs starting to give out although his hands still tingle with exhilaration. Their eyes meet, and despite being drenched in sweat and thoroughly exhausted, Tobio is glowing with a bright expression.

 

“That was fun,” he pants in between breaths.

 

Tooru snickers in agreement. He lies down spread eagle, trying to cool down. “We can do it again.”

 

“...Maybe not now.”

 

He chokes and thumps on his chest. “Of course not!” Tobio looks so serious that he can’t even laugh. “I mean later. Like tomorrow. I can get us in the dojo near my place again.”

 

Tobio is avoiding looking at him now. A light frown forms on his face, the kind that’s not so much gloomy or angry but fitting for a student stumped on a difficult problem in an exam.

 

“Why are you helping me?”

 

It’s a simple, genuine question. It has Tooru’s eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

 

He’s visibly struggling to come up with words to say, stuttering choppy sentences, “You said it yourself that you don’t like me, but you-you’ve done so much things you didn’t have to do.”

 

Tooru bites his lip and sits back up. “Don’t get me wrong, Tobio-chan. I’m only doing this because you’re supposed to be my rival.” Tobio’s big eyes widen even more, and now it’s Tooru’s turn to look away. “My inferior rival, of course! You’re still annoying and I still don’t like you. Just that, I've heard stories about people getting their donor's muscle memory after a transplant. So it’s gonna be unfair if someone else got yours!”

 

The explanation he pulls out of air at the last moment sounds ridiculous even to his ears, but it’s still much better and far easier than admitting that he actually cares.

 

“Your talent really pisses me off… but you’ve worked for it. I’ll be more pissed off if it ends up wasted on anybody else.” He takes a peek at Tobio, a definite misstep because the next thing he knows he’s blurting out his mind.

 

“You’ve got to keep going. Be strong. Stay alive.”

 

Tooru finds himself unable to stray away from their locked gaze. There’s an intense pull to Tobio’s clear orbs, to his parted lips, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the hoarseness in his throat. It’s a moment that seems to last forever and then passes too quickly.

 

They break apart. Tooru pushes himself up, unfastening his armour. “It’s getting late, better get ready.”

 

A tug on his uniform shirt prevents him from scrambling away. He can feel Tobio’s fingers brushing against his back.

 

“Thank you, Oikawa-san.”

 

Tooru hums. He doesn’t dare to look back, not when the light contact already spreads too much warmth on his skin.

 

***** 

 

Raindrops pelt on the window, distorting the cloudy sky and muting the sounds of machine. The rush hour had passed when they board on the train to Miyagi. The passengers are scarce enough that he could put his rucksack on the chair without getting judgemental stares. It’s bulky with a week’s worth of homework and pyjamas—he left only one set back at home when he moved to stay in the school dorm. Tooru lets his musing jump from one topic to another, anything but on the boy soundly sleeping beside him. The distraction works for a good portion of the hour, but with the other’s body heat constantly pressing against him, it’s hard not to be aware.

 

Tobio sleeps with an open mouth. It might be due to the awkward angle of his head, tilted upward with his nape resting atop of the chair. There’s a line of drool trickling down from one corner of his mouth, and for the first time he looks every part of the fifteen year-old boy he should be. Tooru gives up on deliberately ignoring the thought occupying his head.

 

Tobio’s question gets him pondering on the course of his action. What moved him to actively involve himself in a matter he, like Tobio had said, has nothing to do with? Neither of them would call each other a friend, and Tooru likes to think of himself as a self-centred guy. The only other person he can think of going to such length for is Iwaizumi, and he basically considers him as family. Was it guilt, that wouldn’t give him peace unless he does something? More often than he would like to admit, Tooru imagines about what their relationship might have turn out to be if he had welcomed Tobio from the start instead of scorning him away.

 

A realisation dawns, that this is his second chance. Tooru glances down at the bobbing mass of black hair to his right. He swears to do it right this time.

 

“Tobio-chan. Wake up,” he chides, pinching his cheek.

 

Tobio jerks his head up, abruptly snapping Tooru’s fingers. He hisses, one hand coming up to rub at his reddening skin.

 

Tooru chuckles at his grumpy scowl. “Wipe your drool. The next stop is ours.”

 

Pressing his palms to his face, Tobio silently nods. His steps are still unsteady when they walk out of the train, and seeing him waddle off drowsily Tooru can’t suppress his itchy fingers. He pokes at Tobio’s cheek repeatedly and as a result receives an angry swat to the hand. Undeterred, he waits a short while and when Tobio looks the other way, presses the tip of his nose like a button. Tobio rapidly shakes his head.

 

“Stop it,” he growls at Tooru’s index finger suspended in mid air.

 

Tooru replies him by smoothing up the wrinkle between his eyebrows with the finger. “There, looking much better now.”

 

Tobio tries to frown harder, but with Tooru’s finger still wedged on his forehead, the expression he generates is comical instead of menacing. Tooru bursts out laughing. They continue bickering all the way to the bus stop, Tooru keeping his hands to himself only when more people join them under the shelter. A couple of buses arrive, both going towards the direction of his home, but Tooru doesn’t feel like leaving just yet.

 

Around twenty minutes later, Tobio perks up from his seat. “That’s my bus.”

 

“Don’t fall asleep and miss your stop,” he teases, even though he’s stifling a yawn.

 

Tobio makes a line for the bus. The doors slide open, he’s about to hop in, and then he calls, “Oikawa-san?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“See you tomorrow.”

 

Tooru blinks, before a smile slowly blooms on his face. “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me commend all of you who are still sticking around for this m(_ _)m I'm biting off way more than I can chew with this fic (it's gotten into such a huge story in my head, help) but as I've said I'm not going to abandon it... just that updates will be scarce OTL at the very least I hope to get two chapters per month
> 
> The kudos and comments are much much much appreciated and cherished! Thank you so much, you're all lovely people <333


	5. Kageyama Tobio (2)

On Wednesday Tobio starts the day by stretching out his stiff limbs. The workout from the previous day leaves his body aching, although the soreness is pleasing to him. He had gone all out, and still couldn’t beat Tooru. Thinking about the match fills him with a surge of energy. He turns on his phone, a little shocked to find he had slept well into the afternoon. There’s a message from Tooru indicating the time and place of their meet up today. A quick calculation gives him forty minutes to get ready.

 

He shows up five minutes early, but Tooru is already waiting for him in front of the gate.

 

Tooru removes his earphones and flashes Tobio a cheeky smile. “Ready to lose?”

 

“Only when you are.”

 

The unexpected reply scores him a set of raised eyebrows, and to be honest even Tobio himself is unsure of where it came from. Spending prolonged time with Tooru must have unknowingly influenced him bit by bit.

 

“You brat! As if I’ll let you win,” he taunts, but he’s grinning widely.

 

When Tooru reaches out his hand to ruffle Tobio’s hair, he ducks only half-heartedly.

 

The sparring lasts through the evening, until their clothes are drenched in sweat and their bodies weaken with hunger. After both taking a quick shower, Tooru leads him to a small restaurant nearby. The place is starting to fill with dinner crowd, but they managed to secure a tiny corner table for two. Tooru quickly waves for the waiter and orders without looking at the menu. Tobio, too starved to spare another moment choosing, opts to have the same dish. Shortly after, two big bowls of ramen are placed down on their table. The wafting aroma triggers loud rumbles from his stomach. Tobio wastes no time to dig in.

 

“Aaah, it’s been so long since I last ate this!” Tooru blows out puffs of air to cool down the steaming noodles. He slurps in heartily, humming as he chews. “Isn’t this good?”

 

Tobio nods with his mouth stuffed full, cheeks bulging. There’s a strand of noodle hanging out of his lips and it’s swaying around in tiny circular motion. Tooru has to slap a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from spitting. He whips out his phone, fumbling one handedly before finally snapping a picture of the scene. With great difficulty he swallows, only then daring to look at the photos. Tobio tilts his head, not understanding what exactly gets Tooru so amused. The man sitting in front is still trembling with laughter.

 

“You look like a hamster! Or a dog, hahaha!”

 

Tobio frowns at the phone shoved in his face, his own face on the screen. “Why’d you have to take photos?”

 

“Because you look stupid, what else. I’m keeping them.” Tooru cradles back his phone, beaming again when he sees the pictures. “It’ll be nice to have something to laugh at.”

 

Shrugging him off, Tobio continues to eat although the words still probe around his head. A few mouthfuls later he finally realises why, and promptly puts down his chopsticks. “Are we meeting again tomorrow?”

 

Tooru peers up from his bowl. “I don’t think I can. Promised my mom to do some errands, she’s been nagging at me ever since I got back.” A sly look washes over his face. “Why, missing me already?”

 

“No, I’m also thinking of doing something else tomorrow,” he states, and Tooru squints, incredulous.

 

“And that’s…?”

 

“I want to pack up my stuff.” Meal finished, Tobio downs his glass of water in one go, placing it back on the table with a soft thunk. “Nakajima-san said it’s better to bring as little as possible, so I’ve got to choose. I also have to buy some other things.”

 

Tooru nods along to his explanation. He then leans forward, whispering, “Just remember, no electronic device. Those things are traceable.”

 

“Of course.”

 

They walk to the nearest bus stop, which Tobio finds out today, happen to be located right in front of Tooru’s apartment. Tooru spews out a list of ridiculous reasons to stay despite Tobio insisting he would be fine. After a short and increasingly loud squabble, he gives up and decides to enjoy the company instead. It’s still surreal for him, to be spending time with Tooru so casually. He had always looked at him as someone out of his reach. Someone he secretly wishes he could be. Tooru has a lot of friends, he is popular and well-liked by everyone. All the club members respect him. His family loves him.

 

He would have never thought Tooru was wary of him. Scared was the word he used, and Tobio had found it even harder to believe. How Tooru wound up viewing him as a threat is still difficult to fathom. Amidst the confusion, a little part of him felt pride but he quickly shut it down. However, just yesterday Tooru had called him his ‘rival’ and the burst in his chest was too strong to quell. Tooru, who has everything and anything someone can possibly need. That very person is right now sitting beside him, looking up the timings of his bus and telling him it will arrive in six minutes.

 

“Heeey Tobio-chan, are you listening? Just what’re you thinking about that you dare to ignore me?”

 

“Nothing,” he replies, and he might have been smiling because Tooru is immediately pestering him to speak out.

 

If there is anything valuable resulting from his unwinding order, as improbable as it may be, it would be the relationship he gains with Tooru.

 

***

 

Tobio doesn’t own many things. The clothes he can’t fit in anymore, the used school textbooks and old toys—those are always donated as per his grandma’s teaching. It takes him three hours to go through all of his belongings and sort out the stuff to be given away. He has set aside a small backpack, a water bottle and three sets of clothes, leaving aside some space for the items he plan to buy. While the room looks absolutely messy, he could probably fit everything in his closet when he tidies up.

 

His eyes sweep over the cupboard to the long black case he has deliberately put off. He doesn’t know what will be of the things he left behind, but he’s certain his mother wouldn’t be keeping them. Taking the shinai with him is out of the question, yet it feels inherently wrong to simply discard his father’s last gift. With a heavy heart, he unzips the case and takes out the shinai. On the hilt is his name, engraved in wood in small calligraphic strokes. He strokes the imprint and allows moments to pass as he recalls fond memories. For one last time, Tobio clutches the shinai to his chest and lets out a long sigh. He grabs a knife from the kitchen and strides back into his room. Propping the hilt on the side of his bed, he carefully cuts around the letters and digs out the wooden piece. It’s jagged and rough on his palm, but it suits him just fine.

 

He dismantles the shinai and burns all the other parts on the backyard. The smoke drifts up in a thin black trail, reminding him of the incense his grandma used to burn by his father’s altar. Tobio has never been a strong believer of religion or the supernatural. That doesn’t stop him from praying every now and then; not to anyone in particular and never hoping for a granted wish. What he is about to do will be an exception, because the experience of having his days numbered has him concluding that nothing he speaks in his mind is too foolish. So he prays to his father, apologises and thanks him. He prays for his grandma’s health and well-being and happiness. He prays for his second chance, vowing to try harder this time. It all sounds very clichéd, dramatic and naive, but he can’t deny the calmness washing over him when he finishes.

 

After the last wisps of smoke are blown away by the wind, Tobio leaves the house.

 

The afternoon sun is warm on his skin, the gentle breeze keeping his jog pleasant. He slows down to a stroll when the sky is replaced by huge, vibrant boards sprouting out of of high-rise buildings. Despite having lived around the area for most of his life, this would be his first time going into the biggest shopping district in the prefecture. He had passed the street countless times on the journeys to and from school, but now that he is actually inside, the rows of shops seem to stretch on forever. He sighs in relief when he spots the directory. Scanning through the extensive list of categories, he snaps a picture of the accessories section.

 

In the fourth store, he finally finds something similar to what he had in mind. The locket is rectangular, made out of metal and dark grey in colour. It’s small and very light, and opens smoothly by pressing the tiny button on the left side. He slides the chain to check on the price—it costs about half of his weekly allowance and more than anything Tobio has ever bought for himself, but money will stop holding any worth to him very soon.

 

He returns to the directory with the new purchase tucked in his pocket. There is only one weapon shop in the entire district and as he’s reaching he observes that the front door is guarded by two men. All the goods are displayed behind a locked glass panel; it appears that everything requires a licence to buy. He’s walking out when he sees the expandable batons and instantly trots to take a closer look. It’s something he could use in case he needs to defend himself, and it will fit easily in his backpack. He leaves for the sports store a few units away and buys an adjustable folding hiking staff. At its longest, the stick covers more distance than his usual shinai and is twice as heavy. Although there would have to be some adjusting done, he is quite satisfied with the makeshift weapon.

 

Tobio has spent almost all the money he brought. He has also acquired the two items he wanted to. Cautious of going home later than his parents and risks getting seen with the stick, he quickly strides to the exit past the clothing section. From the corner of his eye, he glimpses on something that compels him do a double take. In a moment of impulse, he stomps back to the cashier clutching a T-shirt.

 

The sound of door unlocking alerts him in the living room. He grabs his glass of milk and stands up from the couch towards his room, hair dripping down the towel around his neck. He had run all the way back and reached the house at five, sparing just enough time for a bath before his mother comes back from work. His tracksuit, dampened by sweat, lays strewn across the bed. Tobio digs out the necklace from the pants pocket and opens the locket. Putting it on his desk, he grabs a pair of scissors from the drawer and starts carefully cutting a photograph. Once he’s done, he slips the cut-outs into the locket, one for each side. On the right is his late father’s face, bright smile lighting up his youthful features. On the left is his grandma, warm and kind and happy. In the middle of the whole picture is little Tobio sitting in his mother’s laps, but that portion is left uncut on top of the desk. He stares at it for some time before sweeping it to the trash can.

 

***

 

That night he receives a string of texts from Tooru, detailing his day and all the things he had to do in continuous complaints. He tries his best to give appropriate replies, however short they may be, although instead of consoling they only serve to provoke more influx of messages. At first he finds it rather irksome, but Tooru’s dramatic retelling soon gets a few snickers out of him.

 

So, done your packing?

 

Having entertained Tooru’s whining for a while, the change of topic is a little unexpected.

 

Yes  
I’ve got everything ready

 

That’s fast  
Good then  
It’s already gonna be Friday tomorrow anyway

 

Tobio stops typing. He had forgotten about the coming weekend.

 

Oikawa-san, can we meet up earlier tomorrow?

 

Why  
Who says we’re meeting? :p

 

I won’t have much time to practice on Saturday and Sunday  
Oh then it’s ok

 

Heyheyhey youuu  
Learn to get a joke will you??  
Geez  
Fine, what time

 

We’re meeting up?

 

YES >:(

 

Is 8 ok?

 

YES >:(

 

Why are you giving me angry faces?  
Are we still meeting?

 

NEVER MIND  
GO SLEEP ITS PAST MIDNIGHT  
CHILDREN SHOULDNT STAY UP LATE

 

Frowning a little, he grumbles on how Tooru was the one to start texting him. He settles back into the bed and turns off the light. Another buzz rattles his phone as he’s setting up the alarm.

 

I’m sacrificing my precious sleeping time so you better not be late tomorrow

 

Tobio’s mouth quirks into a smile. He sends one last reply before placing the phone under his pillow.

 

I won’t

 

***

 

On Friday he spends twelve hours with Tooru in the dojo, going out a couple of times for food. At the end of the day, to answer the questions about his weekend business, Tobio briefly explains about his grandma. They agree on a short morning session before Tobio goes to visit her in the afternoon.

 

Finally home at half past nine and thoroughly exhausted, he passes out right after he falls into the bed. The following morning he wakes up with a kink in his neck. Tooru can’t seem to stop poking fun at it, until Tobio strikes him right in his chest and wins a round. His only round of the day, because afterwards Tooru makes it twice as difficult to even score a point.

 

The gentle sound of rainfall fades into the background as Tobio spiritedly recounts the matches to his grandma.

 

“It’s good to know you’ve been enjoying yourself,” she says when he finishes talking. “Say, will you be going to Tokyo with him?”

 

That should not be something his grandma knows, he thinks, alerted. It takes another moment to remember his lie. “Ah. Yes.”

 

“Very well, then I won’t have to worry about you getting lost.”

 

She laughs at his tight expression, believing it to be due to her teasing.

 

“When are you moving? The holiday is ending, have you prepared everything you need for highschool? I didn’t expect you to still be here, you should be getting yourself adjusted in your new place.”

 

“Monday.” He taps his fingers on her blanket, mind reeling. “It’s okay, I’ve gone there once. Oikawa-san showed me the dorms. It’s pretty nice.”

 

She hums in approval, “That’s very nice of him.”

 

Tobio knows he has to change the topic of their conversation lest he blows up his cover story. He points out the bags of books and clothes he plans on donating to the orphanage affiliated with the nursing home. What he couldn’t foresee is the way his grandma would begin asking about the situation at home, and a dreaded question takes him by surprise.

 

“How’s your mother doing?”

 

“She’s pregnant.”

 

He grinds his teeth, berating himself for divulging the pregnancy in panic. At least he didn’t blurt out anything about the unwinding. It’s a good distraction, he supposes, because his grandma now gapes at him in shock.

 

“Really? Is she really pregnant? Oh god, Tobio, why haven’t you told me?” She is babbling as she grabs his hands, overwhelming with excitement, and he doesn’t have the heart to stop her. “How far along? I can’t believe this, I’m so happy for you two.”

 

“Uh, I’m not really sure, but she already has a small bump.” He tries to hide his discomfort by squeezing back her fingers.

 

A look of fondness washes over her face. She gazes at their joined hands, trembling a little. “You’re going to be a big brother.”

 

He feels his own eyes dampen at her tears. The lump in his throat is hard to swallow.

 

She quickly wipes the wetness on her cheeks, sniffling and giggling as she does so. He waits for her trembling to subside. Once she has calmed down, she unclasps the bracelet on her right wrist and puts it in his palm. “I want you to give this to your mother.”

 

He gawks at her; in the years they lived together he had never seen her take off the gold band. He notices it as a gift from his father, as she told him once when he asked long time ago.

 

Tobio pulls his hand away, but she has it locked in her tight grip. “No,” he sputters, “I can’t…”

 

“Please,” she assures. “I don’t have anything better. And I really want to give her something. A gift, as congratulations.”

 

She can see him still hesitating, and so she closes his fingers into a fist and wraps her hands around it. “It would make me happy.”

 

Her smile almost outweighs his disinclination. He knows he can’t decline her wish.

 

During the ride back home, he broods over passing on his grandma’s gift. He doesn’t want to talk or interact with his mother more than he has to, more so give her the bracelet he feels his grandma should have kept. The short distance to his front door is a heavy trek. He had left the nursing home earlier than usual, so his mother shouldn’t have gone to bed just yet.

 

True enough, both her and his stepfather are in the living room. He fights the pull to run straight inside his room and stops awkwardly a few feet away from them. Pointedly ignoring everything else, he puts the bracelet on the end table and hurriedly steps back.

 

“It’s from grandma. To congratulate you for the pregnancy,” he grits out, keeping his eyes trained on the floor all the way to his room.

 

He leans against the door and thuds his head back. It was much easier staying in denial. What he did earlier makes it impossible to ignore the emotion he had refused to acknowledge.

 

Jealousy.

 

He is jealous because his grandma was happy about the baby. It’s selfish and foolish because she doesn’t know the circumstances, but he had wished her to share his bitterness. Of course she wouldn’t. She doesn’t sow the same ugly envy rooting in him.

 

He is jealous, because his mother chose the baby she has with another man over him.

 

Ultimately, he is jealous because the unborn child is going to be loved like he had once been. Be a better replacement of him. Live the life he has to run away from.

 

Willing his body to move, he distracts himself by preparing for the shower. He can’t let anything drain him. He has to be ready.

 

***

 

Tooru offers him a can of cold tea from the vending machine. They have just gone for lunch but the scorching heat has him gulping down the drink in seconds. Tobio presses the cool metal to his upper arm, right on where Tooru’s shinai had hit during their sparring. It relieves some of the sting.

 

“So, tomorrow huh.” Tooru sips at his drink, slouching on the bench in the bus stop.

 

“Yeah.” Tobio worries his lips. “Train station at four,” he repeats what Tooru has told him earlier.

 

Although he may be very oblivious at times, he's aware of Tooru stealing glances at him, as if waiting for him to say what's on his mind. Tobio knows he has been behaving strangely today, being even quieter than usual and unresponsive to Tooru's teasing.

 

Finally giving up to the long stretch of silence, Tooru tosses his can into the bin and props his arm on Tobio's head. “Still not gonna tell your grandma?”

 

Shaking his head, Tobio gets up when he sees the bus approaching.

 

“Okay then. Make it worthwhile.” Tooru pats him on the back before he boards. “See you tomorrow.”

 

He waves behind the glass door and slumps down on a seat. He has been feeling lethargic since he woke up, not getting enough sleep the previous night. A quick nap in the bus does little help to lift up his energy. He drags his feet to the nursing home, momentarily stopping outside his grandma’s room to get himself together. He doesn’t expect to see her in a worse state than him.

 

“Grandma?”

 

She continues staring outside the window, visibly tired and distressed. Tobio has to crouch down in front of her and shake her arm lightly to get her to look at him.

 

“Is something wrong?” He asks softly, shuddering at the coldness in her eyes.

 

“Oh, yes...” Her voice croaks. He braces himself.

 

“You’re a much better liar than I thought.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update! This is all thanks to you guys, for the very nice and encouraging and understanding comments, I can't say just how grateful I am <3 I love you all <333

**Author's Note:**

> There I go, combining one of my favourite books with my current obsession because it wouldn't leave my head. It's not a must to read the Unwind series because I'll provide all the necessary explanations, but I implore you to do so anyway, at least for the first book. If you're intrigued by the premise, I guarantee that it won't be a regret :)


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